


the one that felt like a Jarmusch

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Series: what could have been [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Prompt Fic, byebyehiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: Coulson is not looking for Daisy. Really.





	the one that felt like a Jarmusch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the #byebyehiatus mini-fest :)
> 
> The prompt was, more or less, [DAISY AND COULSON MEET BY ACCIDENT].

The first time Coulson oversleeps a meeting (except for the one time at the Academy where he was simply that hungover), May smiles at him, very directly. It means that even though they are still looking for Daisy (not officially, okay, but still), Coulson has gotten past the nervosity (not past the impatience, but to be fair, he’s trying). 

Things have gotten a bit easier since Daisy’s started messaging him every now and then, just to let him know she’s okay. She’s very careful though, never giving away anything about her location or associates (that’s what the Director calls them). It has helped Coulson get back his usual calm, though, because if she’s able to message him, it means she’s doing okay so far.

The Director’s been flooding the team with missions anyway, so there isn’t much spare time when they could be looking for her. Which, not too cool, because the guy seems to think he’s some sort of demi-god, bureaucratically speaking, and has decided he’s going to run after all the loose ends from cold-ish missions. Not much time left for any extracurricular activities, to be precise. Coulson gets reprimanded by his superior for showing up late, but thankfully, that’s it; at least there will be no extra missions on top of the ones he’s already been assigned to.

As a consequence, Mack and him have agreed on letting their research on Daisy’s activities rest a little; they are still keeping track of her appearances in the media, but that’s basically it. Since the Director’s initial efforts to catch her as soon as possible have proven to be insufficient, he’s been ushering them to take care of as many other cases as humanly possible (which means _everything_ , basically). At least that also means that Elena and Joey are back at the base, which is always a very good thing if you ask Coulson.

Despite all the workload, Coulson manages to stretch regulations a little and work more according to his own rules than to anyone else’s. The Director is inexperienced enough in such a position to just let him do his thing, at least for now. He’s trying to be very strict, but that’s not always effective when basically everyone else around has been in the business longer than himself (Coulson imagines he loves to boss around the interns.)

May and him are observing a cinema (a little half-heartedly, but still), waiting for their target to exit after the film. It’s one of these really annoying cold cases that simply didn’t get solved because someone was too lazy to actually follow through with an observation. Granted, sitting in a car, eyes focused on one spot, with too little space to stretch your feet and horrible takeaway coffee – it’s nobody’s dream job. Especially since no matter how prepared or how fit you are, your back is bound to hurt really badly after a while. Also, calf cramps.

It feels a bit like the old days, minus the excitement: May and him sitting in a second-hand SUV (budget), legs angled awkwardly, sipping bad coffee in silent companionship. Very uneventful, and very dull – at least it’s not dangerous. There’s no danger of breaking a sweat, either. Suddenly, a familiar-looking figure exits the building, but they don’t fit the target description at all (and May’s arching her eyebrows), so Coulson lets it go. After all, it seems really impossible that Daisy should be visiting a cinema (or anything that public) – not now, that is. Not when she’s part of every agency’s top ten. He must have been mistaken.

The guy they’re targeting still hasn’t left the building. Obviously, he’s got some business to do on one of the higher floors, that they knew; but apparently, they’ll have to stay the night. At least the building doesn’t have any extra doors, so it should still be a fairly easy job to do.

Two hours later, Coulson feels like a concertina: folded in too many places and pressed together.  
“I need to stretch.”  
“Back seat?”  
“May. You know what that sounded like.” The smirk.  
She looks ... clement. “Not what I meant.”  
He nods. “Back in five. Coffee?”  
“Black.”

At least it’s not raining (it should, according to the forecast). He jogs around the corner to the 50’s-style diner at the far end of the block. As he’s crossing the street, it starts pouring. Awesome. He decides to duck into the tiny, shady-looking café right next to him (he knows May disapproves because the coffee there is even worse than at the diner, but he prefers bad coffee to getting soaked, so). As he turns to open the second door leading into the actual café, someone opens the door a bit too swiftly and hits him.

It doesn’t hurt, but he’s still frozen on the spot – as is Daisy.  
Years seem to pass in the moment before they recover. She’s the first to speak.  
“Thought the Director has you running after other people now?” It sounds just a bit colder than she intended.  
“Yeah. We are running after ‘other people’. May’s around the corner.”  
“Oh.”  
They’re awkwardly standing between the two entrance doors.  
“Coffee?” He might be looking just a little bit too hopeful.  
She’s smiling now, though.

One coffee turns into two, turns into three (Coulson knows he won’t be sleeping, but right now, even this satanic brew seems to taste acceptable). She’s consciously holding back detailed information on what she’s doing, but she’s telling him stories, anecdotes, and laughing with her seems like something he hasn’t done in ages. He responds in kind, with stupid little stories about Mack or the new Director, telling her stupid jokes he’s learned from Joey that crack her up. She’s touched his arm several times while laughing; it seems silly to even be aware of that, but he can’t help it. It’s been such a long time; everything she does seems so important right now. Maybe it’s just the coffee overload.

After a while, she smiles at him (he swears there might have been a wink involved), suggests they switch to something other than coffee because her hands might or might not be shaking. He’s surprised to hear himself giggle at that. Daisy orders colourful cocktails, and the fact that she’s looking into his eyes makes him feel like everything might be possible. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt like that. There must have been one time or another, he guesses.

It might be the coffee or it might be the cocktails (two? three?) – Daisy asks him to dance to one of those songs that sound like they might be a swing number but have a lot of electronic stuff in them. The bartender is cheering him on, and Coulson feels a little cheap, but there’s a twinkle in her eye, so he swings her around like he used to do with his mother in the kitchen. 

The streets are empty when they leave; the neon lights are flashing on the wet asphalt, the traffic lights are bouncing on their cables. Her laughter might be the only sound in the whole city. She’s linked arms with him, and he doesn’t dare to speak too loud, because it might scare her away, as if she’s a butterfly sitting on his shoulder.

It’s only when she asks him in which direction he needs to go that he remembers May and nervously reaches into his jacket to check his phone. There’s a text.  
“Cuffed him. Give my regards. Meeting 0930.”  
Of course she’s seen the message (and of course May knows). She’s laughing, and he suddenly feels dizzy; everything about her is wonderful in this moment, it feels surreal.  
“Let’s go,” she nudges him.  
He doesn’t ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! :) Hope you liked it!


End file.
